


On the Horizon

by RevyCaitEll



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One, Transformers: Prime, Transformers: War for Cybertron
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, But Not Much, Dubious science ahead, Gen, Jazz being Jazz, Origins fic, Praxus, Ratchet being angry at Jazz, a few OCs - Freeform, a load of other characters, enforcer shenanigans, pre war, the senate, twins shenanigans, very confused Prowl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 16:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9771923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RevyCaitEll/pseuds/RevyCaitEll
Summary: Prowl is young and Cybertron is on the brink of civil war. Prowl just wants to find his place in the Praxus Enforcers, but fate it seems, has other ideas.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys this is a new old fic that has been rewriten. I was sick of it sitting around on my drive so I got my act together ;P.
> 
> This an AU Prowl origin story so I hope you all enjoy.

Prowl stared at the pile before him, a scowl adorning his faceplates. The datapads sat harmlessly on his desk, scattered in haphazard stacks. He gingerly picked one up, scanning its contents. An item requisition list flowed onto the screen.

Prowl’s scowl deepened, as he hastily checked the other datapads over. Not a single one of them had anything to do with the tactical department. He huffed in frustration moving to sit down on his rather uncomfortable chair, craning his doorwings so they wouldn’t scrape off the wall. 

It had been like this for ages and for the life of him Prowl couldn’t figure it out. He had requested to be transferred to tactical countless times, only to be refused without any consideration.

It annoyed Prowl to no end, he had only joined the Praxus Enforcers because he wanted to help mechs, instead of joining the army that so desperately wanted him. He wanted no part in the fighting that was likely to come.

Tensions had been incredibly high in the last few vorns, with growing public distaste on how Cybertron was being run by the Senate. The Gladiatorial Slave Pits and the Caste System were just the tip of the iceberg on the cruelty that the Senate was accused of allowing under their iron fist rule.

The startling rumours about the measures taken by the Senate to stay in power did not help their cause. Their attempts to squash the rebel group called the Decepticons only backfired, and even the Autobots, who were formed to protect the Senate had changed their views. The Senate felt boxed in and they were getting antsy.

If a true rebellion were to happen, Prowl would have no doubts that the Senate would fall and he suspected that they knew that too. There was too much public dissent and mechs were sick of the rich staying rich and the poor rotting beneath their feet.

His thoughts returned to the task at hand, the unbelievably boring requisition requests and maintenance forms. Prowl felt like a receptionist more than a fully qualified Enforcer, which he had worked hard to get to.

One miracle at least, was that Prowl was allowed go on patrols. He loved leaving the stuffiness of cramped office and going out for a drive. He glanced at his chronometer, only a few joors left and then he could enjoy a nice solitary patrol during the night cycle. Prowl could hardly wait.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxXxxxxxxx

Interlock reread the report clasped in his servo, sighing heavily as he analysed the contents. 

_The patient’s doorwings show a heightened sensitivity, previously unseen before occurring naturally without the use of enhancing modifications. Further testing shows the patient can record spark signatures from as far as 50 miles away with pinpoint accuracy. Combined with the tactical talent the patient possesses, it is highly recommended that the Defence Force get involved and see what military assets the patient can provide. The Senate has clearly showed their interest in the patient, but due to Praxus’ neutrality, cannot interfere, yet._

The report was far longer but Interlock couldn't bring himself to read it a third time. This was bad news, very bad news. The fact that report was so clinical and detached was even worse. 

Interlock feared for his subordinate, the new recruit Prowl who was the ‘patient’ the report was centered on. The mech was an excellent tactician and had flourished in the Enforcer Academy, but when the medicals that were mandatory for all students were carried out they discovered his abnormally strong sensors. The greedy optics of the higher classes were immediately interested, and that was the worst kind of interest.

With all the civil unrest, each opposing side wanted the best gear and the best mechs, everyone was out for themselves.

Interlock was tempted to retrieve the bottle of high grade stashed under his desk. He needed to keep Prowl safe, he had known the mech’s creators very well. They had all served in the same unit of Enforcers for vorns, not that Prowl knows it himself. The death of his parents had hit him hard and Interlock had no idea how to approach the grieving mech.

Imagine his surprise when Prowl was assigned to his unit. It hurt denying Prowl’s every request to tactical. He was too good, too efficient. He was already being watched like a hawk and Interlock could not guarantee that Prowl wouldn't be forced to join the Defense Forces or worse. He doubted the mech even knew about how unusual his doorwings were, the report had never been revealed to him and no matter how much Interlock wanted to tell him he was forbidden.

Interlock’s very office was bugged and he suspected that his apartment was as well. He knew he couldn't hole Prowl up forever. There had been a new shift of power in Praxus. He needed to get him out of the city before the new governor came into office. Interlock knew well enough that If Pursuit, the new governor, found out about Prowl he would not hesitate to order him into service for ‘the good of Praxus’. Pursuit was a nasty piece of work, bribing and bullying his way into power. It sadden Interlock that Praxus had fallen into the hands of lesser mechs. The last few vorns had been hard on the working class and profitable for the nobles. 

Prowl was in danger of being used and possibly abused, lost in a system rife with corruption.

Interlock needed outside help, but who could he trust?

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxx 

Prowl practically sprung out his chair eager to escape the confines of his office. He raced down to the ground floor pinging Control that he was starting his patrol on the way out. He folded into his alt mode fluidly, engine revving with excitement.

Cybertron’s moons hung overhead and the city was alive with activity that came with the night cycle. Prowl powered up his sensors relishing in the wealth of information absorbed by his doorwings. He could feel the energy pumping around the city supplying the tall skyscrapers that dotted the landscape. Dots flared up on his HUD, the signatures of mechs all around him. Praxus was bursting was life.

The road beneath him was eaten up by his tyres and the thrumming of his powerful engine filled his entire frame. His sleek alt form reflected mirror images of the spiralling architect arching over the looping highways. Praxus was a city with flare.

Content with the empty stretch of road, Prowl neatly connected to the Enforcer frequency ‘watching’ the comn traffic. It was all quiet. The Enforcers were quite efficient and the laws were harsh in Praxus. The strict rules discouraged most trouble makers, but an unfortunate side effect meant the criminals in Praxus were _very_ smart. They had to be if they wanted to continue their trade.

However there was still upstart hotshots that believed that they would be able to evade the system. 

Enjoying his patrol, Prowl zoomed along the highway keenly aware of the activity around him. 

A niggling on his sensor net brought Prowl’s attention to two signatures. He focused in on them tracking their speed and trajectory. They were tiptoeing the speed limit. He pinpointed their position to the highway above him, around twenty miles ahead.

He decided to follow them closely taking an intersection to get closer to the signatures’ position. It was a weird signature, it was the same frequency of one spark, but in two places. Peculiar. Prowl frowned trying to think of a cause. Maybe a simple fault in his sensors?

Prowl caught up with the signatures in no time and they were just out of visual range but he had no problem keeping track of them. He kept his distance, seeing what they would do.

Prowl frowned when the signatures abruptly changed direction and smashed the limit, heading straight for him. He braked sharply, tyres squealing at the abuse. Leaving rubber marks, he pulled to the side of the road, near the corner where the signatures would eventually race past. 

He waited patiently, his systems running eerily silent. Prowl patched into Control reporting the speeders. Soon enough he could hear the roar of engines and the screeching of tyres. 

Headlights lit up the road as two mechs, one a bright yellow and the other a violent red, veered dangerously fast around the corner. Prowl was about to launch forward, before realising in horror that the mechs had somehow spun out of control and were heading straight for him. Prowl gunned his engine desperate to get clear. He reversed backwards trying to escape the collision.

He wasn't fast enough.

The red mech slammed into him sending him careening into the barrier, both sides of his alt crushed. Searing agony ripped through Prowl’s sensor net, his doorwings felt like they were being bathed in acid. He transformed, the agony increasing tenfold, he tried to speak, to send a comn but static invaded his vision and the world went dark. The last thing he heard was a very disgruntled “Scrap!”


End file.
